


Twitlets

by donotjustlive_fly



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: ContactJHW, ContactSH, Fluff, M/M, twitter drabbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 06:33:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11777454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donotjustlive_fly/pseuds/donotjustlive_fly
Summary: Various drabbles and ficlets based on some of the incredible Sherlock RP accounts on Twitter.





	1. Easter [ContactSH/ContactJHW]

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! These were originally posted on Tumblr, but I figured it was time to finally bring them here. I think I'm going to post the four I have currently written all in one swoop so I can just, y'know, be done with it haha. First two are based on the famous Contact accounts, and third one is based on a teen/unilock duo. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> (Edited 10/6: moved the Greaserlock chapter to its own thing!)

* * *

 

“Goodnight, dear!” Mummy’s voice trails him up the stairs, the warmth of the kiss she’d brushed to his check still lingering as he ducks into ‘his’ room briefly to strip out of the day’s clothes and tug on pyjama bottoms. He may have been joking with Sherlock a bit earlier, but he did sincerely want the man’s parents to like him, if only to make their lives a bit easier in the future. Besides, the elder Holmeses were lovely people, easy to get along with, and loved Sherlock and his brilliant mind unconditionally- something that put just about anyone in John’s good graces.

’ _Except for one person_ …’ Letting out a sharp breath, John shakes his head to rid himself of any thoughts about _Victor_ , instead cracking the door to peek into the hallway. Upon seeing the coast is clear, he creeps across to the door opposite his, pushing it open as silently as possible and ducking into the quiet darkness beyond. His eyes adjust slowly, falling instinctively to the faint shape on the bed under the window, and an automatic smile spreads across his face as something in the vicinity of his chest gives an insistent tug. He makes it across the room unscathed without tripping on any of the detritus he knows litters the floor, slipping under the sheets and spooning up against the pale, slender body already occupying the mattress. A drowsy sound of confusion greets him, and John brushes a kiss to the nape of the other man’s neck before nuzzling into the tangle of messy curls, arm winding around a sleep-warm waist. “Go back to sleep, Sherlock. S’just me.”

“Hm… there’s no ’ _just_ ’ about you, John…” His quiet chuckle is cut off as Sherlock twists around to fit his body more firmly against John’s, legs twining automatically as he shoves his head inelegantly under the smaller man’s chin. John grins helplessly at the ceiling, wrapping both arms around Sherlock tightly as a nearly-silent sigh of contentment gusts across his throat. “My parents are absurd, keeping you up for so long talking about _nonsense_. Don’t the elderly typically keep to earlier hours? Hence those ‘early bird specials’ at cafés, or whatever they’re called…” Stifling laughter, John slides a hand up to brush through Sherlock’s hair, savoring the way the curls seem to twine around his fingers just as lovingly in return.

“We had a lovely conversation about your mother’s newest book, ta very much, and she was inquiring about when I was going to start working on my own manuscript. Besides, y'know perfectly well they’re night owls just like you.” The only response is a muffled grumble, soft lips pressing absently to his collarbone, and John pulls back just enough to smooth a kiss to Sherlock’s forehead. “Goodnight, my ridiculous madman.” Sherlock tilts his head, mouth seeking John’s for a proper kiss, and the blond obliges willingly, quiet happiness singing in his veins.

“Goodnight, my John. Happy Easter.”

* * *

 


	2. We Could [ContactSH/ContactJHW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What followed the famous 'We could/We could' exchange.

* * *

 

_I don’t know if we can “create” bees._

_I could try._

_We could._

_We could._  

John stares down at the final tweet from Sherlock, warmth curling around his heart and spreading through his veins, and he pockets his phone with determination. He scoops up the sleepily-fussing Rosie and props her on his hip as he walks quickly to head back down to the sitting room- but freezes at the top of the stairs when he catches sight of the man currently on his mind poised on the first step at the bottom. Pale blue eyes glint up at him, a complicated swirl of emotion in their depths, and they draw toward each other automatically until there’s only a single step between them. The silence is thick with words unsaid, and John is trying to gather enough of his thoughts to make an attempt at giving them voice when the drowsy baby in his arms reaches one tiny hand out toward the dark head of hair just above her eye level. A small, genuine smile splits across Sherlock’s face as he ducks his head obligingly so her pudgy fist can grip his curls, and something fierce and protective rushes through the former soldier. John slides his own fingers into the tangle of curls at the back of Sherlock’s head, nails scratching gently against the sensitive scalp, and unnoticed tension visibly unspools from the detective’s shoulders as he leans in to press his forehead to John’s chest. 

 The trio remains there for a long moment, a sense of peace falling over the apartment for the first time in over a week, before Sherlock draws away carefully to give John a grin of such bone-deep contentment that he feels a little breathless under the glow of it. “Come down and let me show you some websites about creating and maintaining an apiary. Once Rosie falls asleep we’ll put her back in her cot, and then we can go to bed. Together. Okay?” John feels an answering smile spread across his face as he slides his hand down to cup the other man’s jaw, closing the last step between them so he can steal a sweet kiss that turns intense in short order. They part reluctantly with a mutual laugh when Rosie starts making unhappy noises about being ignored, briefly resting their foreheads together. 

 “Yeah, alright. Tell me about these bees we’re going to create.” 

 They curl close together on the couch, Sherlock’s laptop on his thighs with John pressed against his side, one arm tight around a narrow waist while the other holds the dozing baby against his chest. He hooks his chin over the other man’s bony shoulder, paying more attention to the low rumble of the voice he can feel in his bones than the words being said, and feels the knot at his core loosen enough that he can properly breathe for what feels like the first time since all of the Victor nonsense had started. Things between them weren’t sorted by a long shot, countless troubles still needed to be discussed, but for now- with the two most important people in his life warm and happy against him- it felt like things were going to be just fine.

* * *

 


	3. Freckles [demiboywatson/ChemistryBee]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets a question on CuriousCat about Sherlock's freckles. Counting (and kisses) occurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for my favorite little darlings, the lovely teenlock RP accounts demiboywatson and ChemistryBee on Twitter! I hadn't written teenlock in AGES and it was an absolute delight, especially with these two. My sweet friend Oli (who writes John) yelled a bunch of headcanons at me after I cooed over John counting Sherlock’s freckles, and I did my best to incorporate most of them into this. Give them (and the other teenlock RP accounts) a look and a follow on Twitter!

* * *

 

_‘How many freckles does Sherlock have?’_

John blinks down at his phone, rolling the question over in his mind, before turning curious blue eyes to the boy in question. Sherlock has stretched out on his stomach, feet kicking through the air absently as he scrolls on his phone, head propped up with his free hand; John can’t fight the grin that splits across their face, the quiet domesticity of just hanging out in bed with the most important person in their life utterly blissful and somehow both familiar and new at the same time. He doesn’t bother trying to wipe the look of joy off his face as he replies quickly to the question _[have’t counted yet but he definitely has less than I do (mostly on his back/shoulders).]_ , then rolls onto his side to inch closer to his boyfriend.

“Sherlock.”

“Hm?”

“Sherlock, I- I want to, uh, collect some data.” The brunette quirks a brow and tips his head to give John a look of pleased surprise, setting his phone aside for the moment.

“What kind of data, John, and for what purpose?” They reach out and glide a single finger down Sherlock’s spine, savoring the shiver and pinkening cheeks the simple motion causes.

“I’d like to count your freckles.” The other eyebrow raises to join its twin and John can’t quite help his squirm of uncertainty as knife-edge eyes dart over his face rapidly.

“I can tell you the exact number, John, why would you-“ John leans in to catch the other boy’s lips in a chaste kiss to quiet his question, smiling as Sherlock instinctively sighs with contentment and presses into the contact. They draw back slowly, watching as Sherlock’s eyelashes flicker against his cheeks for a moment before those lovely eyes flash back open to give them a look that’s attempting to be disgruntled. “You interrupted me.” The blond giggles, leaning back in to rub their noses together.

“I did. And I know you could tell me the number, brilliant boy, but I want to count them myself. Can I? Please?” Sherlock’s cheeks flush an even brighter shade of pink as he bites his lip, absently worrying a corner of the pillow under his chest between thumb and finger, before nodding. He laughs as John lights up with excitement, rolling up onto his knees and gripping the hem of his shirt, then hesitates.

“Should I-?” John once against interrupts, this time with a loud ‘yes’ and enthusiastic nodding, and Sherlock grins as he drags it off, ruffling his hair as he tosses the fabric to the floor. The brunette savors his boyfriend’s gaze for a moment, their eyes bright and soft with affection, so much more comfortable in his skin even after such a brief time with his John’s steadfast adoration. “How do you want me?” John sits up as well, stealing another kiss, before nodding back down at the bed.

“Go ahead and start on your stomach, you looked comfortable.” John gives a cheeky grin as Sherlock rolls his eyes with amusement, watching tenderly as that long, slender body stretches out across the sheets again. He swings a leg over to carefully straddle the other boy’s waist, pleased by the way Sherlock goes a bit boneless under him and by the shy smile tugging at Cupid’s bow lips from where his face is half-buried in the pillow.

Clearing his throat and straightening his shoulders in an attempt to play at something professional, John brushes a finger along the sharp cheekbone currently visible. “I know you don’t have any freckles on your face, to start. However, there appears to be some right-“ He pauses as he brushes curls up and out of the way, revealing a little cluster of three just behind Sherlock’s right ear. “Here. A trio, the same color as your hair when the sun catches it just right when it’s setting, close together in a little triangle.” John ducks down to nuzzle them tenderly, beaming at the shiver and breathless noise the action earns him, and he cards his fingers through dark curls briefly before he sits back to continue.

“The next freckle, I know, is on that lovely neck of yours, but I can’t see it right now because-“ Sherlock immediately flips his head to the other side before the statement can be finished, tipping his chin and shifting his shoulders slightly so that the freckle midway between front and side of his throat is visible to amused blue eyes. “There it is. This one is probably my favorite because it’s just barely darker than your peaches-and-cream skin tone, and I know if I do this-“ They duck down once again to brush butterfly kisses over the spot, the delicate flutter of their lashes causing a flood of delighted giggles that shake Sherlock’s skinny frame. Pleased by the reaction, John presses a real kiss to the freckle as well. “Doing that gets me one of my favorite sounds in the great wide world of sounds. Your laughter is music to my ears, Bee.” The younger teen turns pink once more at both the compliment and the pet name, twisting in an attempt to catch John in a proper kiss.

“ _John_ …” Grinning so hard their face hurts, they give into the edge of a pout in Sherlock’s voice and bestows a sweet, slow kiss to plump lips before straightening once more. Sherlock snuggles down into the sheets again, eyes drifting shut in bliss as gentle hands smooth over his shoulders, a single finger lighting on the knob of his spine, a spot at the center of his left shoulder blade, and another just below the sharp curve of bone.

“Three here on your upper back. One just over your C7 vertebrae, the other two on your left scapula. I love your shoulder blades, Sherlock. Looks like you could sprout wings and fly any time you like.” Sherlock’s smile spreads at the fanciful words, trying to hide his face in the pillow, but John shoves his own face into the pillow alongside the other boy’s to deliver a quick kiss to the corner of that laughing mouth. “No hiding! Let me see you, Bee.” The brunette gives a huff that is far too fond to be annoyed, obediently turning his head back so he can peer up at his boyfriend from the corner of his eye.

“John, you’re ridiculous. One moment you’re acting and sounding like a proper scientist, with correct names for everything, and then the next you’re waxing poetic. You’re doing a decent job of collecting data, but…” The doctor-to-be chuckles as Sherlock trails off with a happy hum and a wiggle, continuing to brush kisses over the three latest freckles until his brilliant love is pliant and nearly purring under him again.

“There we go, Bee. _Shhh_. Now! Continuing down your back, you have one freckle here over your _Latissimus dorsi_ muscle, and one here in the perfect little dip by your _Iliac crest_. These are both dark but smooth and even, probably nothing to worry about but I might still have a specialist look at them.” Sherlock starts giggling again as John makes a show of poking and peering closely at them, squirming as more kisses are pressed to his skin before rolling to his back and grinning broadly up at his boyfriend.

“ _Now_ you sound like a good scientist, John. I should probably count yours though, so you can learn from a professional how to properly collect this kind of data…” John laughs and goes down willingly as Sherlock gently shoves at their shoulders, catching bony hips in callused hands to pull the other boy on top of them and obliging the questing fingers that tug their t-shirt off. The clever budding scientist pokes at the various speckles splashed across tan skin, the product of countless summers spent shirtless out in the sun, and begins a lecture of what causes freckles.

John feels his breath catch as he gazes upward at Sherlock’s face, serious and intent in the pursuit of knowledge, once again struck by the beauty of this darling boy who has so willingly and thoroughly become _his_ over the last few weeks, and fervently thanks his lucky stars. It all shortly becomes too much, the near-clinical sound of that low tenor utterly at odds with reverent fingertips against their skin, and the blond catches Sherlock’s cheeks so they can pull him down into a gentle but intense kiss, an indignant sound quickly dissolving into a shy little moan as the pair rolls on the mattress, both lazily trying to get back on top.

The rugby player finally succeeds, not-quite pinning Sherlock to the mattress to briefly tickle pale sides. Still giggling breathlessly, John presses another kiss over his boyfriend’s heart before sitting up, happiness fizzing in his veins. “ _So_ , back to _my_ data collection, you have nine freckles then. Perfect.” Ruffled and flushed and glowing with happiness, the boy below him bites his lower lip briefly.

“You missed one, John.” The blond raises an eyebrow, walking two fingers slowly up Sherlock’s sternum.

“Did I? Where?” A smile that’s a lovely blend of genuine shyness and blooming confidence spreads across Sherlock’s face and he motions John to back up, laughing as the sight of him reaching for the waistband of his pyjama bottoms sends John eagerly scrambling out of the way. Navy eyes, pupils almost impossibly dilated, focus on pale skin as thighs spread, and a pink tongue flicks across his lips briefly as he zeros in on the single perfect freckle just over the _Sartorius_   _Adductor_  muscle. “ _Oh_.” John flicks a glance up to Sherlock’s face, a request for permission on his face, and as he gets a firm nod he smirks- then swoops down to lay a lascivious kiss over the final spot.

Much, much later, sweat drying on their slowly cooling skin, John grabs his phone again and pops open Twitter. Sherlock lets slip a bleary hum of inquiry, snuggling closer into their side and tucking his face further into the curve of their neck, and the blond smiles as they tighten their arm around a skinny waist. “Just updating Twitter on the freckle question. The masses were scrambling to know.” Sherlock gives a quiet huff of amusement, fingertips delicately tracing over John’s skin.

“Ridiculous. Put your phone away and cuddle me properly, John.”

“With pleasure.”

_‘An update to this question: he has three behind his right ear, one on his neck, and five across his back and shoulders._

_(And one on his inner thigh.)’_

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to mark this _'Complete'_ for now, but be sure to check back for more Twitter-based writing in the future! Thanks for reading!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr for updates, behind-the-scenes thoughts, and randomness:  
> donotjustlive-fly.tumblr.com


End file.
